A Doctor Who Murder Mystery
by Phlogistics
Summary: The Doctor has an encounter with the Sunnydale police. He really hopes no one ever hears about this. Mild crack, one-shot.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who of Buffy the Vampire Slayer._

**A Doctor Who Murder Mystery**

It all started with a banana peel.

Well, technically, it _ended_ with a banana peel. The Doctor's eleventh incarnation, that is. It ended quite spectacularly with him _slipping_ on one. Which was embarrassing enough in and of itself, but when coupled with an inconveniently timed backfiring car, a setting of Main Street, Sunnydale, and one frightened pedestrian calling the police, the situation became simply ridiculous.

Because, really, he sincerely doubted that anyone else had ever been arrested for their own murder.

Picking idly at the blood crusted onto the shoulder of his, now slightly too small, jacket, the Doctor cast an eye towards the police officer sitting across from him. He stared stonily back at the Doctor, with the look in his eyes of a man who _knows_ he's got a criminal in front of him, and is determined to bring him to justice.

Not particularly interested in the officer's sense of justice, the Doctor glanced around the room for something to occupy himself. He noticed vaguely that the splotchy greenish color of the walls resembled regurgitated jelly babies.

"Do you understand why we've brought you here?" asked the policeman finally, breaking the (probably _supposed_ to be tense, yet mostly just boring) silence.

"I do indeedily-do," responded the Doctor. A disturbed look crossed his face. "Right- never saying that again."

"Mister Smith," said the policeman, a bit irritated with the Doctor's nonchalance, "if you really understand the situation, as you claim to, then you know that you're here on suspicion of murder, as well as facing charges of resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer--"

"Oi! I did not _assault_ him!" the Doctor protested. "He tripped into my elbow!"

"Be that as it _may_," the police officer growled, "you should be very careful to cooperate with us from this point on, and answer all questions honestly. As an immigrant, you are especially vulnerable to harsh consequences should you not, Mister Smith, even if you _are_ innocent."

It was quite clear that the police officer did _not_ think the Doctor was innocent. Wishing to clear up this situation quickly and get back to catching the alien life form that had brought him to Sunnydale in the first place (a fascinating creature: it sustained itself by draining the life force of sentient beings while they dreamed—but it'd have to get you to eat a slice of _cheese_ to do it), the Doctor offered to answer any and all questions that the officer wanted—because he had better things to do with his time than indulge the ineffective American justice system, so if they could hurry it up, that'd be great, thanks.

Though he _probably_ should've left that last part off, judging by the reddening of the man's face and the tightening of his fists. It would be quite unfortunate to have to regenerate again before he even had a chance to see what his new face looked like.

A few moments later, having mostly composed himself, the police officer asked, "Why did you decide to go out this afternoon?"

"Wanted to go for run," the Doctor replied. "Keep in shape, and all that. It's fun, too, 'specially if you've got a friend along."

"You went for a run, in mid-afternoon on a Wednesday," the policeman looked the Doctor over, "in _that_."

"Apparently so."

"And the bloodstain on your jacket is also part of your fashion sense, I suppose?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I slipped on a banana peal and hit my head on the curb."

There was a noticeable tick developing in the officer's eye. "Do you honestly expect me to _believe_ that you, despite being completely uninjured now, cracked your skull open a half hour ago- and have magically _healed_ since then? Mister Smith, you are once again not taking this seriously-"

"Motive."

"What?" asked the policeman, uncomprehending.

"What would be the _motive_?"

The officer glared at the Doctor, stood up from his chair, and leaned over the table towards him. His words were laced with venom. "We couldn't currently say as we've been unable to identify the victim, since it seems the body was _disposed of_ by the man who murdered him!"

"How?" the Doctor asked.

"How?" the policeman repeated.

"How was the body "disposed of?" The police, as I recall, arrived at the scene two minutes and twenty-seven seconds after that car backfired-"

"_Car_ _backfired_?!"

"And I really don't think that a body can be efficiently hidden or destroyed in two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Do you?" asked the Doctor. "And what about a murder weapon? You've got all of my belongings, and the most dangerous thing I had on me was a pen light. Be honest. No body, no murder. No weapon, no killer."

The Doctor shrugged. "Sorry, but- you haven't got a case, and I really do have to go, so-" he got up from his seat and slipped his handcuffs off, depositing them in front of the officer, "- I'll be leaving now. Buh-bye!"

He let himself out of the room, stopped by the front desk to say a quick hello to the cute girl stationed there and pick up his things, and then proceeded out the door and saved thirty-eight lives within the next four hours.

All and all, the stop in Sunnydale hadn't been a terrible one. Most everybody lived, and the Doctor even got thanked twice.

But he'd never be able to look at bananas the same way again.

And he _still_ wasn't ginger.

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_A/N:_ This is based of a challenge at Twisting the Hellmouth. I've been wanting to write it for a while, and then suddenly it all came together! It's not perfect, but I really had fun writing this fic. I hope that you enjoyed it too, despite the fact I used a fictional Twelth Doctor in order to not go against canon. He was based mostly on the personalities of Nine, Ten, and the Doctor-Donna in order to try and make him relatable as the Doctor.

Please, tell me if you liked it and/or what I can do to improve. Your reviews make my day!


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